


it’s a shame you’re not ruby

by dearparker



Series: hold on tight, darling, it’ll be alright [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Comfort, Cute Ending, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kid Peter Parker, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Sick Peter Parker, and very picky, he’s nine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearparker/pseuds/dearparker
Summary: “You’re mean.”May kisses his forehead, “I am wounded that you would say that.”“You’re a bully,” Peter yawns again, slowly succumbing to slumber.“I’m not a bully,” She scoffs.“Yes, you’re like... you’re like the dog inScooby-Doo. The one that was tiny.”(or: nine year-old peter parker not being a fan of tomato soup or grape flavored medicine for 1k+ words)
Relationships: Ben Parker & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker
Series: hold on tight, darling, it’ll be alright [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079402
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	it’s a shame you’re not ruby

The front door creaks as it’s pushed open, and Ben’s head pops up shortly after, jacket damp from the rain that pelts down from outside. He’s got a smile on his face, one coated in sympathy, and points to the white Walgreens bag he has, “Got some medicine for you Pete.”

Peter sits at the dinner table, eyes bleary as he blinks slowly, hair stuck up all over and long overdue for his haircut. His cheeks are tinted pink from his fever, and he coughs before he asks, “S’it the red one?”

May comes around the corner of the hallway, presses a quick kiss to Ben’s lips and jokes, “Purple, ‘cause they were all out of the other one.”

Ben purses his lips as he peaks in the bag again, neither the red or purple liquid medicine Peter had been used to. Instead, a few bottles of pills rattle inside the bag.

“I don’ like purple,” Peter whines, his eyes glazed over and he coughs. He ignores Ben’s sharp look when he failed to cover his mouth.

Nine year-olds are apparently more difficult than Ben or May expected, seeing as Peter was never this picky with his medicine before. Or anything at all. A few weeks ago, Peter had taken a certain dislike towards wearing socks, in or outside the house, and May has had about enough of the dirty footprints he leaves when he enters the kitchen. 

Thankfully, the issue had been resolved by the time Christmas break ended and he went back to school again.

She enters the dining room with a small bowl and her nephew automatically wrinkles his nose, whining when he sees the red soup on his bowl.

“Tomato soup is the only one we had, honey,” May says softly. She places her hand on Peter’s forehead, her concerned expression only deepens as she feel the heat pouring off him in waves. She wipes the few tears off his cheeks and presses a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

Ben sets the bag down on the table and takes off his jacket as Peter slowly stirs the soup, his grip lax and he watches it with a pained expression. He wipes his nose on his long-sleeve shirt and decides that tomato soup was quite frankly, disgusting.

He pushes the bowl away from him, crosses his arms, and begins to swing his feet while he looks back at May. He hears Ben sigh.

“You have to eat your soup, Pete.”

Peter coughs, the sound rattling around his small chest and he deflates slightly, resting his elbows on the dinner table for support.

He sniffs as he stares at the tomato soup sitting in his bowl, his stuffed nose wrinkling at the smell, “I feel better now.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” May calls out from the kitchen, “Eat your soup or Ben’s gonna take the Iron Man mask!”

“No!” Peter cries out, his gaze set on his Uncle Ben. The older man’s eyebrows are furrowed as he looks to the right, where he can spot May from the kitchen, and he shrugs when he feels his nephew’s gaze.

“You gotta eat your soup, it’ll help you feel better.”

Although he hates it, he hates not having his Iron Man mask even more, so Peter slurps down four spoonfuls of the hot tomato soup with a grimace on his face. Ben ruffles his hair with a smile.

The pain slowly creeps up, like a cheetah slowly stalking toward a gazelle, or a snake slowly suffocating its prey to death. He feels awful, his head pounding with a fierceness he’s never known and his stomach gurgles with cramps.

Peter whines, resting his forehead in his small hands and his eyes begin to sting with tears. His stomach was starting to hurt, and even if he did like tomato soup, he’s no longer hungry.

He feels his bottom lip wobble as his stomach cramps again and he can’t stifle his small sob, rubbing furiously at his eyes with shaky hands. He feels May’s hands on his back and the tears spill out faster.

She rubs his back as Peter turns his head to hide his face in her thighs, his breath catching and she frowns at how miserable her boy is.

“Can you get him some medicine? We can put off dinner,” She says softly, her fingers scratching at Peter’s head. 

Ben finally moves from his spot to dig inside the Walgreens bag, ripping off the plastic and dumping out two red pills into his palm. May stares at him in disbelief.

“Where’s the liquid medicine?” Her eyebrows furrow.

“Well don’t you think it’s time for him to start taking pills?” Ben shrugs, shaking the two pills in hand.

May grits her teeth, “Yes, but we know he can keep down the liquid.”

“Well now would be a good time to find out if he can hold down the pills,” Ben says with a wide smile, his eyebrows raised with over-exaggerated excitement. May glares.

Ben deflates and crosses his arms while he grumbles to himself. Peter hiccups against May’s thigh and his grip tightens on her pant leg, and she’s shooting Ben another sharp look until he’s tugging on his jacket once more, key’s in hand.

May squats down, grunting at the way her knees already ache, and she cups Peter’s face gently. Her thumbs swipe away the onslaught of tears that stream down his face, a pinched expression coming across his features. 

“I can try and find something for you?” May asks quietly, while he rubs at his eyes. She grimaces when she notices how dirty his sleeve is, “Or do you want to go straight to bed?”

He paws at her pants with a frown, “It hurts May.”

“Is it your head? Or stomach?” She places her hand on his head again, her touch gentle as she brushes away his messy hair.

Peter just nods and rests his forehead against her shoulder, sniffling quietly and she wraps her arms around him as she stands. He hides his face in her neck when the world spins.

“Does this mean I can’t go to Sally’s birthday party tomorrow?”

May chuckles as she carries him into his bedroom, her hand rubbing up and down his back, “Sorry sweetheart.”

Peter mumbles something incoherent and she sets him down. He sighs as she begins to tuck him in, her hand coming up to smooth his hair down and she pats his stomach  one, two, three, four  times and the action causes giggles to bubble out of his mouth. 

Eventually his laughs turn into coughs, sharp in their noise and his whole body jerks with the force of each one, tears pricking at his eyes. He feels May scoop him into her lap and she shushes him quietly, fingers gentle as she scratches at his scalp. When he quiets down, he sags against her chest and his head pounds.

He sniffles, May kisses his head.

She lays down beside him, her shoulder length hair kept to the sides of her head with silver pins and her smile is soft, eyes kind as she brings him closer.

Peter wipes at his teary eyes and gently hangs onto May’s necklace, the emerald dark in his small palm and May closes her hand around his.

“Shame you weren’t born in July, yours would’ve been ruby,” She wrinkles her nose as she smiles.

Peter coughs, “What’s mine?”

“Peridot,” She whispers.

“That sounds weird,” Peter whisper-yells back at her. His eyebrows furrow when she throws her head back in laughter, “What?!”

“You’re amazing.”

“You’re making fun of me,” Peter slurs, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn.

“I most certainly am not-“

“‘S too many words,” He says.

May laughs and she wraps him in her arms, much to his protest, and he immediately starts to squirm, flailing his tiny arms and legs in attempt to get her away.

How dare she laugh at him, this is  _no_ laughing matter! He’s _sick_! And she’s  _attacking_ him!

Peter stops squirming as soon as he starts, panting from exertion and he sags against her stomach, “You’re mean.”

May kisses his forehead, “I am wounded that you would say that.”

“You’re a bully,” Peter yawns again, slowly succumbing to slumber. No! He said he was feeling better! He’ll fight until the day he dies.

“I’m not a bully,” She scoffs, tugging the blanket over the both of them.

Peter weakly kicks at the blanket, but it barely flops, “Yes, you’re like... you’re like the dog in  _Scooby-Doo_.  The one that was tiny.”

May bursts into laughter, hugging him tightly against her chest and he grabs her hand, blinking slowly at the bedroom door.

She begins to speak again, but her words are muffled and he blinks slowly until he’s simply too tired to open his eyes again. His grip on May’s hands grow lax and he completely melts, already beginning to drool against his bedsheets.

Peter truly does feel better.

**Author's Note:**

> leave comments/kudos! 
> 
> my twitter is @SPIDEYHOMES or @YELENASHARON
> 
> let me know what you think!
> 
> also when peter’s holding onto may’s necklace, for those of you that don’t know emerald is the birthstone for the month of may and when i googled it, may was born may 5th :) 
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
